


Short Stories

by Dotdotbeepdot



Series: Drabbles [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon Compliant, Drabbles, Fluff, Gen, I'll try my best there is so many, Multi, No Smut, ask to tag, request, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 18,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25878193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dotdotbeepdot/pseuds/Dotdotbeepdot
Summary: I'm putting all my short stories-- mostly request from prompts and such-- that were on my blog here so you all can still read them. Some stories are part of my storyline, some are just request for writing. I still do take request so if you want one, or want a continuing of one, just tell me in the comments and I'll do so!!Enjoy!
Relationships: Bim Trimmer/Darkiplier, Bim Trimmer/The Host, Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache, Dr. Iplier/The Host, Eric Derekson/King of FNAF, God there's pretty much every single ship, Googleipler/Bim Trimmer, King of the Squirrels/Bingiplier, Robbie The Zombie/Yandereiplier, The Host/Eric Derekson, The Host/Wilford Warfstache, Yancy/Illinois
Series: Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877875
Comments: 45
Kudos: 44





	1. “Sorry, Fluff 16, Bimglost or Bost”

**Author's Note:**

> Sentence prompt: “Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?”

“Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?”

The Host started, letting a bark of a laugh and fiddling with his bandages, acting like he wasn’t just trying to hide his face in embarrassment. 

He was read in his library, sitting in his desk next to the window, when Bim had walked in. Host was so deep into his book, he didn’t even hear anyone coming in. He took a moment to narrate his surroundings before responding. The evening sun has faded into night, deep into the night too, the moon high enough to shine into the second story library. Dust swayed in the air, the light of the moon turning them visible. He let out another laugh, putting his book down on his desk with the others before greeting the ego.

“The Host did not hear Bim come in,” he mutters, smiling under his breath as he stopped in front of Bim. “It’s very out of character for Host to be so clumsily, but it is also out of character for Bim to say something so sweet.”

Bim rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Host to pull him down and give him a kiss. Host didn’t even get a chance to return it before Bim was pulling away and grabbing his arm to lead him away from the library.

“I didn’t mean to make it so sweet,” he huffed as Host read out his blushing face. “Just with the moonlight making you glow and the dust looking like freaking fairy dust, it’s hard not to sound cheesy as hell.” 

Bim lead him down the hall to his room. He tossed him and told him to get dressed for bed, before turning back around to leave. Host grabbed his arm before he could and pressed his back to his chest, hugging his arms around Bim’s waist and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Thank you for getting The Host.” he hummed, leaning heavier on the shorter ego’s back. His exhaustion is just now hitting him, God he’s been up reading for hours. Bim rubbed his arms and turned to kiss his forehead.

“No problem, hon,” he started unwrapping himself from Host and turned to give him another kiss, this time a little longer and on the lips. “Now get in your pjs and we can cuddle in bed.”

Host let out another hum and let him go to get dressed.


	2. “7 with ericke?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “Don’t you ever do that again!” “If I die, I’m haunting you first.” “Please just kiss me already.”

Mike was trying to stay calm as he patrolled the halls. He hated this time of year, the closer it gets to Halloween, the more the others are likely to jump out and scare him. Wilford and the Jims especially loved to scare the shit out of him. 

He heard a squeak of the floorboards down the hall to his right. Mike held his breath, hands shaking slightly as he gripped his gun a little tighter, and slowly made his way towards the sound.  _ He was gonna die, he was gonna die, it’s fucking Freddy. _ He saw something reflect off his flashlight and quickly clicked off the safety and pointed it at the intruder.

Except it was not an intruder, it was Eric. A very scared looking Eric. 

“Fuck,” Mike dropped his arms in relief and put the safety back on. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

“I’m Sorry!” Eric stage whispered, hands still thrown up in surrender. “I was just coming to see you, I’m sorry!”

“Shit,” he hissed out, his heart was beating out of his chest. “Fuck, you’re so sweet, but Jesus Christ you gave me a heartattack.”

“I’m sorry,” Eric quickly rushed over, patting his back awkwardly. “Here. You should probably sit down.”

He helped lean him against the wall and sit on the floor. Eric sat next to him and gently took the flashlight away, shining down the halls at Mike’s request, making sure no one was there. Mike leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, chest still heaving from the scare he had. He only opened his eyes again when Eric took his hand and asked if he was ok.

“If I die, I’m haunting you first.” he said instead. Eric let out a nervous laugh, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

“I rather you not die.” he joked, though his anxieties were badly hidden.

“I won’t,” Mike reassured. He smiled as an extra precaution and brought their hands to his chest. “You’ll have to kiss me to keep me from dying.”

“Like a Disney prince?” Eric laughed, nervousness melting away slowly. “Would that make you the princess?”

“Sure whatever,” Mike responded lazily, lolling his head to face the other ego. The panic was starting to melt away too thank god. “Please just kiss me already.”

Eric snorted, giggling as he leaned in to do just that.


	3. "(misc 15) for King of the Bing; Fluff 7. with King of the Bing”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “Give me attention.” “Please kiss me!”

King flopped down on Bing’s lap, the holographic screen he was working on pixelated and disappeared at being disrupted.

“Give me attention.” He deadpanned, going fully limp in his boyfriend’s lap. Bing lifted him like he was a giant stuffed animal and hugged him to his chest.

“Peanut, I’m kinda busy,” Bing laughed, adjusting King’s dead weight to sit him nicely in his lap. “You can sit with me, but for once, Googs actually gave me work to do so I can’t hang out.”

He brought up the screen again and continued typing on it. It didn’t last very long however, King swiped at the screen again to disable the hologram. 

“I don’t like you working,” he mumbled. “You are not fun when working.”

Bing laughed again. He grabbed King’s messy little fingers and brought them up to his face, making King look up at him too. He softly kissed the tips of them, scrunching up his nose at the taste of peanut butter and dirt. King copied his actions, smiling and scrunching up his nose, making Bing core purr. With the combination of the freckles thrown across his nose and the gap in between his yellow teeth, King was definitely the cutest thing the android has ever seen.

“I love you so much.” Bing whispered, pressing another kiss to his hands. King smiled brighter at that.

“I love you!” He squealed, grabbing Bing’s face and squishing them, shaking them softly. Bing pulled away.

“But I need to work.” he held back a laugh as King’s face fell, as if he’s been terribly betrayed.

“Nooo!” King whined loudly as the screen was brought back up, throwing his hands down like a child. He kicked out to get rid of the screen. “Please kiss me-!” 

Bing cut him off by grabbing him by the chin and moving his head to kiss him normally. King kissed back eagerly, happy to finally be getting what he wants. He moved himself to sit more comfortably on Bing’s lap, Bing’s arms moving to wrapping around King’s shoulders and tangling his fingers in his hair. King, in turn, had his hands moving up and down the other’s sides. Bing pulled away once King started to go under his shirt.

“You know, the sooner I finish this, the sooner I can pay attention to you.” He smiled as King whined. But he got up and left Bing to do all he needed.


	4. “Misc, 1, darkstache, fluff?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.”

The minute Dark woke up, he knew he was in for a bad day.

His body ached, the back of his neck was stiff as a board and any attempt at moving it make it explode with pain. He didn’t bother putting on his makeup, it took too much time and it would only hurt more. Dark swore as he pushed himself up from the bed. Gasped and held his neck as he stood. 

Shit, this was going to be a //terrible// day. 

Dark got dressed via his aura, he might just snap his head off if he tried doing it manually. He got to the kitchen with little pain, but next up was getting coffee. Thank god Dr. Iplier gets up early to go to the hospital, if Dark had to make the coffee himself, he might just die. Again. 

However, he did need to reach into the cabinet and get his mug. 

He cursed at the DA’s body for the millionth time since he took it.

Dark took a deep breath, glaring forward and planned out how he was going to keep his neck straight as he grabbed what he needed. He reached up, grimacing at the twinge of pain lifting his arm caused. He opened the cabinet, swearing under his breath as pulled back the door. He stood on his toes as he searched for a mug, any mug would do, God he just wanted his coffee. 

His hand hit a bowl. Someone put the dishes in the wrong cabinet.

“For fuck’s sake!” Dark snapped, aura lashing out at slamming the door shut, slicing it in half. He gasped, hand shooting up to hold the back of his neck, breathing heavily to stay calm.

“Darky?” Wilford appeared next to his husband, sitting and dangling his legs off the counter. “You’re swearing and raving, are you ok?”

“No,” Dark hissed. He couldn’t turn his head. “I am having a bad fucking day and I just want some coffee.”

“Woah!” Wilford hopped off the counter and stuck a mug under the coffee machine, of course, Wilford was the one to put away the dishes. Goddamn it. “Watch your language! We have children.”

“All I do is drink coffee and say bad words,” Dark scowled. He grabbed his cup as soon as the machine finished and turned to sit down at the table. “Why don’t you make yourself useful for once and heat up the breakfast for me.”

“Meanie.” Wilford huffed. He kissed Dark on the cheek, as gently as he could when he let out a wince, before going to cook up something perfect for his injured husband.


	5. “2 angst, Mike and Eric”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence Prompt: “Please don’t cry.”
> 
> Abuse mentioned and acted out here

_ Eric wasn’t allowed to sleep. _

_ He knew that. His father didn’t let him sleep, didn't eat or talk or even sit down. He wasn’t allowed to sleep.  _

_ But he was so tired. _

_ He’ll just close his eyes for a minute. Just a second. It won’t take long. _

_ He was woken by screaming and a sharp pain in his head. His dad was pulling him up by his hair, yelling at him to wake up or he’ll kill him. He dragged Eric from his bed and threw him to the floor, stomping down on his neck. Eric choked on his screams, grabbing desperately at his father’s ankle. He thought he was going to die right there. _

_ Suddenly, the foot was off and Eric was pressed against his father’s chest, drowning in his arms. He kissed Eric softly on his head and rocked him. He felt like he was going to throw up. _

_ “I wouldn’t have hurt you if you just listened to me. Just once, listen to me.” _

Eric gasped as he woke up. Throwing off the blankets, he fell to the floor and convulsed, heaving and choking on sobs.

“Eric?” Mike’s panicked voice called through the dark. “Eric what’s wrong? Are you ok?”

He went around to where he was curled up on the floor. Mike just barely touched his shoulder, but Eric cringed away violently and let out a cry. 

“Please don’t cry,” Mike begged. He sat on the floor next to him, not touching him. “It was a nightmare. Derek―” 

“Don’t―” Eric gasped, the words forced out of his lungs. “Don’t talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

They were quiet for awhile, besides Eric’s painful breaths and sobs. Mike got up after about 10 minutes on the floor.

“I’m going back to bed. When you… feel a little better, feel free to join me.” Mike didn’t want to leave him alone, but he knew Eric wasn’t going to talk to him just yet.

Eric didn’t get back in bed. He moved from curled up on the floor to propped up against the wall, hidden by the night stand. 

Eric wasn’t allowed to sleep. Even with his father gone, he wasn’t allowed to sleep.


	6. “24, with Dark and The Host.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: "Can you please stop playing What's New Pussycat on repeat?"

"Can you please stop playing  _ What's New Pussycat  _ on repeat?" Dark begged, hunched forward at his desk with his face in his hands. 

Someone made a horrible mistake pissing off the Host and now this stupid song has been playing on the speakers for two hours. It’s gotten to the point where Dark called a private meeting to get him to stop. Host refused to tell him what pissed him off, keeping his lips closed tight and silently listening to everyone suffer.

"Fine." Surprisingly, Host relented. The music didn’t change, but the song did. Dark relaxed, if only a little, dropping his hands and sending Host a half hearted glare. The other only smiled at him, surprisingly not seething under his bandages like he was earlier. Dark only scowled and dismissed him from his office.

Everyone went on a little more relaxed for the next three minutes, assuming the Host’s tyranny has ended. Only when the song ended, did  _ What’s New Pussycat  _ start up again, along with a scream and deafening ringing coming from their leader’s office.


	7. “7. Darkstache.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: "Should we tell them?"

"Should we tell them?" Wilford giggled as he hopped over to Dark, Having watched the whole painful scene of Dark trying to gently turn down Bim’s advances.

"How would we? Oh hey guys, remember how we used to do nothing but fight? Well, now we're married. I don't think so." Dark hissed, crossing one of his arm over his chest and covering his face with his other, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“If we did, you wouldn’t have to do that anymore,” Wilford edged on, bumping his shoulder against his husband’s. “Or I can kill him and he’ll get the hint.”

Dark rolled his eyes and pushed him away, fixing the puffed out collar of his shirt. “You like that one. I rather not replace him, I’m not sure we’d be able to find someone that can handle your demands.”

Wilford shrugged, following after him as Dark started towards his office. “There’s also the option of a threesome.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on!”


	8. “9 with bim and Eric but like not in a shipy way more like your my son this is fine or in a shipy way it doesn’t matter”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: "There's a couples discount. We share a bed, but it's 75% off. You wanna go for it?"

Bim came waltzing into Eric’s room without knocking and dropped a brochure in his lap. Eric’s just glad he wasn’t doing anything embarrassing. 

"There's a couples discount. We share a bed, but it's 75% off. You wanna go for it?" He asked, sitting next to him in bed. Eric blushes harshly, looking down at the brochure and stuttering. 

“W-well I, uhh,” he shrank further into himself. “I’m uhh, I’m not gay?” He sounded unsure. He was unsure if he was gay or not, but this was more of the fact he didn’t like Bim like that. 

“Well not as an actual couple,” Bim rolled his eyes dramatically, but still smiled to calm Eric’s growing nerves. “I already have a boyfriend. And I might be poly, but you aren’t really my type, no offense.” He leaned against the pillows and smiled charmingly at the younger. “I just thought it would be a good idea to get you out of the house. You’ve been really depressed lately and we’re kinda worried for you.”

Eric flinched, but he smiled down at his lap. He has been feeling down for the past few days. Some of his brothers’ birthdays had gone and pasted and Eric was reminded of their death. Maybe getting away for a bit would help him out. 

“Well?” Bim edged on. Eric looked up with a small smile.

“Y-yeah. I uhh, I would like that a lot actually.”


	9. “16 KING AND BING COWARD”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: "I just wanted to propose to you, I didn't think you'd swallow the ring."

Bing really didn’t think this would go as wrong as it did. 

He put the ring in King’s peanut butter jar, expecting him to open it and see it and maybe say yes, but what really happened is King not thinking twice before shoveling the food in his mouth. He complained about the peanut butter being too chunky before Bing got the idea that he ate it. 

“Open your mouth.” Bing demanded, jumping over the couch and rushing over to his boyfriend. King looked at him in confusion, sticky fingers still in his mouth. 

“What?” He yelped as Bing forced his jaws open, sticking his own fingers inside and feeling around to see if the ring was there. 

“I’m out.” Bim quickly got up from the table, dragging Eric and Randal away as well. Bing was more concerned with seeing nothing in King’s mouth. 

"I just wanted to propose to you, I didn't think you'd swallow the ring." He shouted, currently pushing his boyfriend’s tongue aside. 

“You were what?” King asked around his fingers. Bing let go and they stared at each other for a moment. King wiped away the spit and peanut butter. “You were gonna propose?”

“Yeah,” Bing let out a breathless laugh, looking down at his gross hands as his fans started up to try and cool him down. “I was gonna ask you to marry me like we talked about, but you fucking ate the ring.” He was laughing half way through. That could only happen to us, huh?

King giggled behind his hands. He gave Bing a kiss on his cheek, covering his face with his cape afterwards, dirtying it up. 

“I would’ve said yes.” He admitted, turning as red as his clothes. Bing smiled and returned the kiss, making King squeal and try to hide again.

“I know,” he teased. Grabbing one of his hands, Bing lead him to a nearby bathroom. “Now let’s see if we can throw that up.”


	10. “1 Darkstache”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: "So... you do this often?" "What, getting thrown into a police cell with a random person I just met? Yeah, all the time actually."

The cop shoved Dark inside and slammed the cell door. They glared at the officer as he walked past and fixed their jacket. They looked at their other cell mates, seeing just one. A man with pastel yellow and pink clothes and fluffy pink hair. He even had a pink mustache.

Dark scoffed at him and leaned against a wall. They watched people pass by, more people being thrown into cells, more cops leaving for the day. 

"So... you do this often?" 

Dark looked over at their cell mate. He had taken up the entirety of the bench, an arm under his and a sucker in his mouth. Dark rolled their eyes and tucked some hair behind their ear. 

"What, getting thrown into a police cell with a random person I just met?” They said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. They shrugged. “Yeah, all the time actually."

The man laughed loudly. He sat up and gestured for Dark to sit next to him. Dark narrowed their eyes and turned away to look back out the cell door. 

“My names Wilford,” the man spoke up again. “What’s your name?”

“Shut it,” They didn’t even look over to respond. “You don’t need to make conversation, you know?”

“I want to,” he said. Dark glanced over at him without moving their head. “A hot goth gets thrown into my cell, of course I want to know about him.”

“Them.” Dark corrected.

“My apologies,” Wilford ate the rest of his sucker and replaced it with another. “Still I’d like to know a bit about you.”

“Dark,” They caved. What harm can it do to talk to him until their siblings came to bail them out. “Nice to meet you Wilford.”

“Likewise,” he patted the spot next to him again, and this time Dark took his offer. He grinned widely and crossed his ankle over his knee. “What are you in for?”

“Protesting,” they leaned away as Wilford offered a candy. “You?”

“Stabbing a cop,” Dark let out a bark of laughter, startling everyone else around. Dark covered their mouth, blushing fiercely in embarrassment. Wilford chuckled too, an arm coming around to rest on their shoulders. “Didn’t you had a sense of humor.”

“No it’s just,” Dark coughed in an attempt to stop laughing. “All the pastel, and you stabbed someone. I figured it was stealing candy.”

He laughed too. “I’ve done that too, but not this time—“

“Mr. Doom?” A cop walked up to the cell and opened it up. “You’re siblings are here to bail you out. And Mr. Barnum, you still have your phone call.”

“Doom?” Wilford teased as Dark got up from beside him. “Dark Doom? That’s the most metal name ever.”

Dark smiled and turned to look at him as they walked backwards to the door. “I’ll see you later, Wilford. Maybe even here again.” They winked before walking past the cop and meeting up with their siblings. 

Wilford looked over at the cop as he started locking up again. He whistled and leaned back, popping another candy in his mouth. 

“I’m gonna get that.”


	11. “Prompt 1 with Wilford and Dark?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Everyone keeps telling me you're the bad guy.”

“Everyone keeps telling me you're the bad guy.”

Dark raised an eyebrow as they finally looked up from their desk. Wilford had that glassy look in his eyes again. Dark leaned away from the desk.

“Who’s saying that?” Dark asks as softly as they could. Wilford was fragile in this state, after all. 

“Everyone,” Wilford mumbled, moving to lean on Dark’s desk, crinkling some paperwork under his hands. “Are we bad people?”

“Do you believe them?” Wilford moved closer, chest practically lying on the desktop. Dark didn’t move away.

“Do you?”

“Wilford, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?”

Dark rolled their eyes and held out their hand for Wilford to grab. Wilford sucked in a harsh breath and grabbed their hand, practically crushing it in his grip. He pressed his forehead against their hand and struggled a little to breathe. 

Dark brought up another hand to run through Wilford’s hair. He let out a whimper and Dark made their own pitying sound. 

“You aren’t a bad person, Wilford,” Dark soothed, heart aching when he let out a choked sob. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Everything will be alright.”


	12. “98 with Yancy saving Illinois”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Backseats aren’t nearly as comfortable as movies make them out to be.”
> 
> Implied non-con but it's just implied. Also he's drunk but yeah.

“Backseats aren’t nearly as comfortable as movies make them out to be.” Illinois groaned as he stretched out in the back of the egos’ collective car. 

Illinois called Yancy late at night— 1:28 am to be exact— slurring through his words and music drowning out the rest. Yancy had eventually got it out of him where he was and convinced Dark to let him use the SUV to pick him up. 

“So are youes gonna tell me why youes got blackout drunk on a Sunday night?” Yancy glanced into the mirror at the adventurer. 

Illinois was silent for a minute, hand still covering his eyes. He smiled, however.

“I uhh,” he frowned again and forehead creased. “I was hoping to find some partners. Adventuring, sexual, or both, I don’t care… I didn’t plan drinking…”

The car stopped at a red light and Yancy drummed his fingers on the wheel. Something about Illinois voice worried him. 

“Did youes get anyone?” he mumbled. The light seemed to be taking hours.

Silent.

“Noisy?”

“I think they put something in my drink,” Illinois blurted out. “We were flirting and it was going well, but… I shouldn’t have taken that drink.”

A loud honk from behind them startled them both. The light was green. The car started moving again. 

“They didn’t like,” Yancy cleared his throat, adjusting his awfully tight grip on the steering wheel, imaging his hands around some creeps throat. “They didn’t do anything to you right?”

Silent. Again.

“I want to go home, Yancy.” Illinois sounded so tired. It made him feel sick.


	13. “99 with Yancy and Illinois?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
> 
> Warnings for something like a panic attack.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” Illinois laughed, breathlessly as he brushed off dirt and dust from his clothes. “Mostly.” 

“‘Know what I’m doing’ my ass!” Yancy shrieked, breathing heavily as he felt among the rocks that blocked the entrance to the cave. They were trapped. Yancy finally went on an adventure with Illinois and they get trapped in a small little cave with no light immediately and—

“Yance,” Illinois placed a hand on his shoulder and Yancy turned to punch him straight in the jaw. He missed however, fist hitting nothing but thin air as Illinois easily moved out of the way. “Whoa, Yancy—”

“Get us out of ‘ere,” Yancy couldn’t breathe. The dust from the cave felt like it was squeezing air from his lungs. He blindly searched for Illinois shirt and held him in a vice grip. “Youes got us into this mess and youes gonna get us outta it, understand?”

“Yancy, I think you’re having a panic attack,” Illinois’ voice was so soft it made him want to punch him again, but he had a point. Yancy couldn’t breathe and it felt like his whole body was iced and then placed next to a heater to thaw. “Come on, sweetheart. You should sit down.”

Yancy jumped and held up his fist again when the hand reappeared on his shoulder and started pushing him down, shushing him softly as they got to the floor. He gasped and shook when another hand started prying away Yancy’s hands from his shirt. Yancy whimpered and shook his head, tightening his grip just slightly.

“Okay, Okay,” says Illinois, letting go of Yancy hands and moving it to hold his cheeks. He brushed away tears— was he crying?— with his thumbs. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll get us out of here. It’s not even that hard, Yance. We just need to stay calm and stick together, okay?”

Yancy nodded rapidly, leaning into Illinois hands. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, he was going to die here, but Illinois was so  _ confident _ and  _ calm _ . He couldn’t do anything but trust that Illinois know what he’s doing and is going to get them out of this.


	14. “90 Bimgle”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “I brought food.”
> 
> Just a little bit of vomiting here

“I brought food.” Google mumbled as he opened the door to his boyfriend’s room. 

Bim was sick. And it was bad. He wasn’t even complaining that much about it. He couldn’t keep anything down and the light wasn’t helping so the room was completely dark. 

Bim whined as Google’s core shined on his sweaty and unprepared face, throwing an arm around his head to hide himself. Google made his own soft whine as he tried turning down the light from his chest and headed over to the bed. 

“It’s soup,” he continued, sitting down on the edge. Bim shifted, curling tighter under the thin blanket. “It’s a parody of chicken noodle soup. I boiled some bones from your last victim for the broth and used some chunks from them instead of chicken for the meat. The noodles and vegetables are all the same.”

Bim was still silent, but he slowly uncovered himself. Once his head was free, Google felt his chest swell at Bim’s hair sticking up in soft curls. It was so rare that Google got to see him like this, Bim absolutely hated being unkempt.

“That does sound good,” Bim slurred, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Are you sure I can eat that?”

“You can at least try,” says Google. “Soup usually helps settle stomachs, but I am unsure if human soup is in that category.”

Bim’s voice cracked with a hum and he reached out and made grabby hands towards the bowl. Google handed it over and moved to lay next to Bim, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer to his chest. He turned on his fans to make his body cool to the touch for his overheating boyfriend. 

Bim pressed his forehead against the side of Google’s neck and smiled before pulling away again and digging into his soup. 


	15. “30 with host and dr iplier? :v”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Don’t make promises you can’t keep."
> 
> Doc is drunk and they do talk about alcoholism

“I’ll be okay, Host. Really, I can—”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, doctor.” 

Host couldn’t stop the anger in his tone as he tugged Dr. Iplier through the woods. He couldn’t help it, he was pissed off at him. 

“Henrik took me out to a bar it wasn’t—” Edward tripped on a root, but Host kept him upright. “Fuck, Host really it wasn’t my fault.”

“6 years,” Host stopped, making Edward crash into him. “Dr. Iplier hasn’t— you haven’t drank in  _ 6 years _ . You should’ve told Henrik that you couldn’t drink, but you  _ didn’t _ .”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Host, I just…” Dr. Iplier looked up at him with such guilt. He swallowed and shut his eyes tightly. “I don’t have an excuse, I know.”

With Dr. Iplier deflating in such a way and alcohol still on his breath, Host’s anger was starting to fall and worry took over. He took hold of Dr. Iplier’s shoulders and felt him drop his head to his chest.

“All we can do is pray that Dark lets you in the manor,” Host smiled at Edward’s laughter. “Let’s head home, okay?” 

Edward nodded against his chest and pulled away, letting Host tug him along the path again.


	16. "59 Bost. :P”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “I want to take a shower so you should probably join me so we can save water.”

Host woke abruptly when someone hit him in the face with a pillow, sputtering and swearing under his breath.

“I want to take a shower so you should probably join me so we can save water.”

Host groaned and tried to hit Bim with the pillow that was on his face without using his narration. A soft ‘oof’ told him that he hit his target. 

“Bim just wants to feel the Host up,” Host muttered as he narrates the scene in front of him. Bim was already by the bathroom door with his and the Host’s clothes folded neatly in his arms. “Might he remind you that shower sex with a blind man is a very,  _ very  _ risky thing to do—”

“Oh shut it, you like the risk,” Bim teased as he rolled his eyes and came over to grab the other’s hand, intent on dragging him out of bed. “Besides, you had a nightmare last night and your face is covered in blood.”

“Why didn’t Bim just lick it off then?”

“Ew, Hosty! That’s fucking gross!”

“He’s done it before.” Host couldn’t help but smirk as he read out Bim’s disgusted, but deeply flushed face.

“That’s only for special occasions. And once when I tried to eat you. Unless you’d like to be woken from a nightmare with my tongue in your socket?” Bim smirked this time at Host’s disgusted face.

“Fair point,” he slowly pushed himself out of bed and groaned again. Bim helped him stand and pressed a sweet kiss on his lips real quick, tongue dashing out to lick at the blood dried on his lips to tease him more. Host grunted and pushed him away. “Don’t push it. The Host has already agreed to the shower.”

Bim laughed, but dragged his boyfriend towards the bathroom door.


	17. “54, Dr. Iplierst?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “You’re cute when you’re half asleep like this.”

“You’re cute when you’re half asleep like this,” Dr. Iplier hummed as he traced a line down Host’s cheek. “Nice and warm too.”

“You’re rather warm as well,” Host buried his face deeper into the doctor’s chest, reverting to first person in his sleepiness. “Like a teddy bear.”

Edward chuckled deeply, watching Host’s head bounced as he laughed. Host always liked how plush he was compared to himself. Edward did have a little more fat on his bones than he’d some of the others and Host adored that about him.

“So huggable…” by the sound of it, Host was starting to drift off. Dr. Iplier pulled him closer. “Fuckin’ pillow man…”

Dr. Iplier held back more chuckles as his boyfriends breathing started to even out as he fell asleep. He pushed back some brown and gold hair from his face and pressed a kiss to his head. 

“Goodnight, love.” Dr. Iplier whispered as he shut his eyes, starting to drift off as well.


	18. “16 with Darkstache”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Put some clothes on for the love of God.”

“Put some clothes on for the love of God.”

“Why?” Wilford whined, hunching his shoulders as he complained. “I thought you liked this outfit?”

“Wilford, we are in a  _ meeting, _ ” Dark stressed the word as they watched helplessly as their husband stood in front of the whole meeting room completely naked besides bright pink and black lingerie. “We were suppose to be going over expense reports—”

“And why can’t I wear something comfortable?” Wilford straightened up and placed his hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow. “Silver gets to wear that stupid suit so why can’t I wear this?” 

“Because Silver isn’t in his  _ fucking underwear,”  _ Dark snapped, aura doing the same in their frustration and embarrassment. “Change.  _ Now _ .”

“Never thought you were one for lingerie, Dark.” Dr. Iplier teased, missing the fact that the Host moved away from him just slightly. 

Dark bristled and glared at the doctor. The floor opened up underneath him and Dr. Iplier fell through while cursing loudly. They others giggled at his misfortune, but quickly shut up when Dark swept their glare across the table. They landed back on Wilford and it was clear that they were furious.

“Wilford, if you don’t change right this minute, you will be joining Dr. Iplier in the void.” Their words held more venom than any of them ever heard. 

Wilford however, didn’t seem phased. He crossed his arms as smirked.

“Kinky.” Was all he said as the floor opened up once more and he disappeared through it.


	19. “9 and 31 Bim/Dark pls”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “You told me you would be careful tonight!” “It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong.”

“You told me you would be careful tonight!”

“It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong.” Bim grunted as he leaned heavily against Dark, blood staining both their suits black. Unfortunately, it was all his.

Bim was stabbed. His meal seemed to know what they were doing when fighting back and stabbed him right in the stomach. Wilford shot them before they could escape.

“I hate how much I care about you.” Dark sighed as they teleported them both to the clinic. They thought back pain be damned as they lugged Bim onto the medical table. They put pressure on the wound and waited for Wilford to get the doctor. 

“I love you, Dark,” Bim breathed out, lolling his to the side and blinking slowly at his partner. “So much…”

“Bim, knock it off. You’ll be okay.” Even though Dark knew he would be okay, they couldn’t help but feel fear run down his spine as he brushed away curly strands of Bim’s hair from his forehead. 

“Can’t I just say ‘I love you’ to my beautiful partner?” 

“Not when you’re bleeding out.”

Bim let out a breathless laugh and weakly grabbed at the labels of Dark’s suit. Dark let their mask crack slightly and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Bim’s lips. They swallowed down their fear as Bim passed out from blood loss.

“You’ll be okay, Bim. Everything will be okay.”


	20. “#8 Illinois and Yancy?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Don’t say you love me.”

“Don’t say youes love me.”

“Why can’t I?” Illinois smirked as he pulled Yancy closer to him, running a hand through his stiff hair. “I do love you.”

“Youes fooling yourself,” Yancy pressed his face into Illinois’s shoulder. “I’m unlovable.”

“No, you’re not,” Illinois moved the hand that was running through his hair and held Yancy’s head up by his chin, making him look up. “I love you, Argo, you aren’t unlovable. Why do you believe that?”

“Youes didn’t know my parents, Noisy,” Yancy looked up at him. “They were dicks.”

“They were, I know,” Illinois tutted. “You can’t believe them, Yancy. I think your accent is cute and your music is amazing. I love you so much and if I could, I would go back in time and kill your parents for you.”

Yancy laughed and wiggled out of Illinois grip, pressing his face into his shoulder once again. Illinois wrapped both his arms around the ex-convict’s back and pulled him closer. 

“Youes wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Oh, really? I’ll have you know I’ve shot people before.”

“Yeah right!”


	21. “4 for dark and wil :0? for the 100 prompts thing ?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

Wilford frowned, pink tipped mustache dropping with his smile. 

“What do you mean, Dark?” Wilford got up from their bed and walked over to Dark. He moved away, turning his back on him and running fingers through his long hair. “Dark?”

“I can’t be in love with you,” Dark turned back around and pulled at his hair, his aura lashing around him. “I can’t, I can’t be. That isn’t part of the plan. I  _ can’t  _ be in love with you.” 

“What plan?” Wilford grabbed Dark’s hands and replacing the strands of hair with his own hands. “Dark, what are you going on about?”

“Don’t touch me,” Dark hissed, knowing he didn’t need to breathe, but still struggling to do so. “Don’t―”

Wilford held Dark’s face in his hands. Despites Dark’s terror, Wilford was smiling excitedly and… something else Dark couldn’t place, but it looked  _ awfully  _ familiar. Like he’s seen it before. Like  _ she’s  _ seen it before.

“You love me?” Wilford’s voice sounded so awestruck, so happy. 

“I do,” If he was so happy, then why couldn’t Dark be? What could go so wrong if Dark tried to be happy? “I do love you, Wil.”

Wilford smiled in pure delight. And then he was pulling Dark forward, capturing his lips. Dark froze. He could only stare in wide eyed shock as Wilford smushed their lips together. It took a moment for Wilford to move, and another for Dark to snap out of it. Dark moved his hands― that were awkwardly at his sides― and wrapped them around Wilford’s waist just as the other pulled away for air.

“Let’s get married.”

“ _ What?” _


	22. “48 anyone you want with the host/author? Oh, and I really like all the writing you have wrote!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”
> 
> Mentions of self harm.

Author pressed himself against the cool alleyway walls, beaten and bruised, but the cold brick helped a little with the aching. He didn't know why he kept doing this, picking fights and getting his ass handed to him. It wasn’t even fun. Sure, he had a rush of adrenaline at the first punch, but it wore of quick and everything else was just pain. Maybe he should get back into therapy. Just to figure that out.

He had his eyes closed for only a moment, but it was enough time for someone to see him and come over to him. Author jolted when a hand gently touched his neck and his eyes shot open, weakly raising his arms to either fight or cover himself.

“Shh, hey, hey,” a man stood in front of him. The first thing Author noticed was a scruffy beard and greasy hair. The man was clearly homeless, even if the rest of him looked a little better. “I was just checking your pulse. I’m a doctor. Well… I have a medical license at least.”

“Fuck off,” Author’s chest rattled as he spoke and he held back a pained moan. He tried slapping away the hands now poking at some bruises. The man still continued to try and check on his injures. “I said fuck off! Just let me be!”

“Look,” the man huffed, sounding annoyed. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

“What makes you think I’m alone?” Author tried smirking at him despite the fat lip he was sporting trying to stop him.

“You’re beaten half to death in an alleyway and crying. Trust me when I say, that that’s not someone that has a loving family to go home to.”

Author’s smile turned into a snarl, but he dropped his arms, deciding that it wasn’t worth it to fight him off. He was just trying to help. Even if Author didn’t want help.

“What’s your name, than?” he might as well get to know the man poking around under his shirt.

“Edward. Yours?”


	23. “Are you still taking writing requests? If so, “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified” with mike and Eric please?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's in the title this time because that's how they requested it

“I-I think I’m…” Eric stopped himself, breath halting in his chest.

Mike looked up from where he was upside down on the couch cushions, shining the flashlight towards Eric as well. The other swallowed harshly, feeling himself start to sweat as his friend stared up at him curiously. 

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified,” Eric finally blurted out. He shut his eyes quickly and looked down at his lap, feeling his heart clench painfully in his chest as tears burned behind his eyelids. “I’m s-so sorry, I-I just—”

“Why are you scared?” Mike interrupted. He was moving beside him and Eric opened his eyes to see him getting up from his upside down position and looking worried as he sat up straight.

“A lot of reasons,” Eric laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. “Y-you might not love me back, you could hate me, everyone I love d-dies,  _ you  _ might die—”

“Hey, hey,” Mike used the hand that wasn’t holding his flashlight to grab one of Eric’s and squeezed it gently. “I get your scared Eric, but you don’t need to worry about me not liking you back.”

Eric started, head shooting up and causing tears to finally slip down his cheeks.

“W-what?” He croaked out.

“Yeah,” Mike laughed softly, squeezing his hand again. “If we’re being honest here, I’ve liked you since the first few nights.”

Eric’s eyes widen further. That was almost four months ago, when he first came to the manor. 

“Y-you…”

“Listen, you were really dorky and cute and sweet, it was hard not to fall in love with you immediately,” Mike sounded embarrassed and he shifted on the cushions. “Does this mean you wanna date?”

Eric was still having a hard time getting his head around everything. He nodded slowly, before snapping out of it and smiling widely.

“Y-yeah,” he breathed out, feeling his face flush red as giddiness filled his whole body. He squeezed Mike’s hand back. “Yeah, I would really like that.”


	24. “Eric saying 18 to Yancy please ?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Am I supposed to be scared of you?”
> 
> Talk of abuse.

“Am I supposed to be scared of you?”

Yancy blinked at the kid, thrown off by the question.

“Wh-what?”

“Am I-I supposed to be scared of you?” Eric repeated, looking nervous once again. He looked down at his lap as he continued. “Y-you keep saying how dangerous you are, but you only got into a fight once and just a little… angry… all the time. Am I supposed to be scared of you o-or not?”

Yancy opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of how to respond. Eric kept talking.

“I-I just don’t want to get hurt again,” he tugged at the small yellow cloth he always had with him. “You remind me so much of— of my brothers a-and I just can’t go through that again.”

Yancy closed his mouth, clenching his teeth. He watched the kid sadly. He knew he wasn’t the nicest to the kid, not that he was trying to be mean, but he was so innocent sometimes that Yancy just got so angry with him and he would act short towards him.

“Yeah,” he finally said, voice quiet. “You should be scared of me, kid.”


	25. “18 with Actor and Dark maybe?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Am I supposed to be scared of you?”

“Am I supposed to be scared of you?”

Dark snarled and they struggled against Mark’s aura. They could barely move a muscle. Mark stood before them, watching like Dark was a bug he had trapped in a cup. He smiled.

“It’s cute really, Damien,” he continued, reaching out for a second to fix some hair that got in their eyes. Dark tried jerking their head away. “You are so  _ desperate.  _ So weak compared to us all. To me and William. You’re  _ broken _ .”

Dark gasped as the aura tightened slowly around them, feeling bones grind and shift together and joints popping. Their body panicked when their ribs poked and prodded their lungs, despite not needing to breath. They jolted when the hand returned and held their chin. 

“Can you feel pain in that body?” he asked with an air of innocence. “Can you feel pleasure? Can you feel anything in the body you stole?”

“I can ask you the same.” Dark spat through their teeth. They wanted to laugh when Mark’s smug smile fell from his face, but couldn’t as the aura wrapped around their throat and choked off any sound.

“You’re pathetic,  _ Dark _ ,” they grimaced when Mark used they’re name, suddenly preferring him use Damien or even Celine again. “You can’t defeat me no matter how many of my characters you try rallying against me!  _ I  _ control the story here!  _ I  _ am the good and you guys are the evil! And good always prevails.”

Before Dark could worry about that any longer, something snapped and Dark screamed.


	26. “17 with Host/Wilford (No one ever talks about it and IM GAY)”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “It’s pitch black and I can still see you blushing.”

Host jumped as he felt a hand slide onto his hip. He already knew who it was and turned around in bed to greet him, supplying a soft kiss to Wilford’s lips.

“It’s pitch black and I can still see you blushing.” Wilford whispered against the kiss, tickling Host’s nose with his mustache.

“That makes one of us,” Host jokes, grinning when the other chuckles. “What are you doing home so late?”

“Oh nothing,” Wilford said, nonchalant. “I just got you a little something.”

“Please tell me it’s not a sex toy or anything related to sex.” He pleaded half heartedly as Wilford pulled him into a sitting position. 

“Close your third eye so I can surprise you,” Wilford sang, bouncing on his knees and making the bed bounce too. Host laughed softly, but kept his mouth shut to not spoil his surprise. A small box was placed into his hands. “Okay, you can open it now.”

Immediately, Host opened the box and began narrating, but he barely got passed the first sentence when he saw what was inside. He almost dropped the box as he gasped, a hand flying to his mouth.

“I got a marriage certificate too!” Wilford was bouncing once again. “We can get married in the morning! Dark agreed to be our witness and everything!”

“Wilford, that is way too soon for me,” Host’s voice trembled as he spoke and he let out a short laugh when he could practically  _ hear _ the other’s pouting. “How about in a month.”

“A month?” He shouted, falling back dramatically onto the bed.

“Yes, that gives us more time,” Host laughed again as he fell back too, curling around his fiancé. “I’m sure the others would want to be there.” 

Wilford grumbled out an ‘okay’ and pressed his face against Host’s neck.


	27. “21 Authford”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Because I love you, you asshole!”
> 
> Self harm in this chapter. It's off screen but still be careful.

“Why do you fucking care what happens to me?”

“Because I love you, you asshole!”

“That’s your own fucking fault!” Author shouted. “You should’ve guessed where this was heading!”

“How could I possibly guess this was gonna happen?” Wilford gestured wildly at the bloody cuts covering Author’s arms. “And with the knife I gave you as a  _ gift.” _

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Author rolled his eyes, ignoring the way that made him dizzy. “You really didn’t think I would ever die, huh? You never thought of the day one or  _ both  _ of us dies because you rather live in your head thinking of nothing but candy and rainbows.”

“I never thought that you would…” Wilford trailed off, swallowing and shaking his head when his eyes started to glaze over. “Don’t do that to me.”

“Just accept it, Wilford,” Author threw out his arms besides him, making blood fly. “I know how you die, I know how I die, I know how  _ everyone  _ dies and you’re just gonna have to deal with me dying sooner than the rest.”

Wilford shook his head again as the Author dropped his arms, his whole body suddenly seeming heavier than a boulder. Blood loss was really getting to him now.

“I’m not letting you die, Author,” Wilford took a step towards his boyfriend, but froze when he saw him start to sway. “Author?”

The floor came up to greet him before Author could open his mouth to respond.


	28. “32 platonic DostHark”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “You’re kind of turning me on.”
> 
> I promise it isn't as bad as the prompt makes it seem.

“Host, this is not an option,” Dark snapped as Host struggled beneath them. “You had a violent vision and Dr. Iplier isn’t here. Just―” Dark grabbed the other by his hair and tugged his head up so his neck was exposed. “ _ Hold still _ .”

“You’re kind of turning me on.” Host laughed, blood loss and lack of air from panicking made him rather loopy. 

“God, you’re disgusting,” Dark muttered. Once Host was mostly still, they stabbed the clotting agent into his neck. Host let out an exaggerated moan before it turned into booming laughter. Dark made a face and pulled the syringe out. “Stop that.”

“Oh come on, Darky,” Host slurred, trying to grab the elder as they moved to get off of his stomach. “You already drugged me, might as well have some fun.”

“It is not a drug and you know that,” Dark deadpanned. They grabbed the hand that was swiping aimlessly through the air and tried pulling the other to his feet. Host however, went limp in Dark’s grip and continued to giggle. “God, how much blood did you lose?”

“12 pounds.” Host dissolved into another fit of giggling at his joke and tugged Dark back down. 

Dark let go of Host’s arm before they could fall into his lap and huffed. They rolled their eyes and opened the void for Host to fall through.

They’ll handle that later.


	29. “If you're still doing the prompts, 89 with Eric and Mike maybe?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “You can spend the night, if you want."

“You can spend the night, if you want,” Mike mumbled, playing with the trigger on his flashlight. “I know you need to sleep at night, but… it would be nice if you stayed a little longer tonight.”

Eric furrowed his brow in confusion as he looked down at his friend. Mike has been escorting Eric around at night for a few weeks now, and despite Eric not nothing he existed until that first night, he thought Mike was nice. Eric never spent more than a half hour out at night, but Mike was always there to keep an eye on him.

“I uh,” Eric stuttered and looked away. “S-sure, I guess. I can miss one night of sleep.”

“Really?” Mike sounded oddly hopeful and Eric couldn’t understand why. He supposes it does get lonely at night. 

“Y-yeah,” he looked back at the other and smiled nervously at him. “What do you have in mind? That we can do, I-I mean.”

Mike thought for a minute, fiddling with his flashlight again. That seemed to help because he straightened up and smiled.

“Oh! I have another flashlight in my room. We can play flashlight tag if you want?” 

Eric giggled at the silly idea and nodded, letting Mike lead the way to his room.


	30. “46 with Actor and Wilford???”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
> 
> Alcohol in this chapter

Wilford cheered as the bartender handed him another martini. He was absolutely hammered and  _ loving it.  _ He had stumbled across this bar… well, he’s not sure when, but it was a nice bar and they gave him free drinks so he didn’t really care when he found it.

Unfortunately, someone bumped into him, causing the glass to slip from his hand and spill onto the table. Wilford pouted, not seeing the person who bumped into him sit beside him, only the bartender refilling his drink.

“Colonel,” the man now sitting next to Wilford began to speak. Wilford turned to see and cruel looking smile. “It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

Wilford blinked a couple of times.

“Do I know you?” he slurred, narrowing his eyes and jaw working when it didn’t need to. The man’s expression dropped, replaced with shock.

“What?” he was searching his face for any sign of recognition. “It’s Mark. William, if this is some kind of stupid joke―”

“Dave?”

“What? No, I just said I’m Mark. Mark Iplier?”

Wilford laughed and brought the drink― that he almost forgot about― to his mouth.

The man― what was his name again?― was silent. He was still just staring at him in shock and something else that Wilford had a hard time placing. Some strange mix of guilt and anger.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“I’m afraid not,” Wilford confirmed after a sip of his martini. “My memories not what it used to be. I do apologize if we have some child together that I don’t know about.”

The man said nothing again. He shut his mouth and stared. He swallowed harshly before wrapping an arm Wilford’s shoulders and giving him a stiff side hug. Wilford was confused and it only grew as the man let go and turned on his heel, disappearing into the crowd.

Wilford stared at the crowd, a headache starting to grow behind his eyes the more he tried looking for the man. He turned back to the bar and put down his drink, fishing out some crumpled up dollar bills and tossing them down for the bartender. After that, he exited the bar.


	31. “37 with Driplierst?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Dammit, are you drunk?”
> 
> Alcohol mentioned here too obviously.

“You damn well know I am,” the Host snorted as he leaned heavily against their shared bedroom door. “No, wait… I’m early.”

“What?” Dr. Iplier was getting ready for bed, already in his pjs and everything. He was sitting in bed and staring at Host like he grew two heads. He seemed to put two and two together though, and sighed heavily. “Dammit, are you drunk?”

“There it is!” Host pointed at him and laughed. His laughter caused him to slip from the doorframe and he almost crashed to the floor. “‘s way too early.”

“How come you―”

“Because you were an alcoholic,” Host interrupted and promptly crashed onto the bed. “Do ya want to get into a fight? We can crash a party and get the shit beaten outta us.”

Dr. Iplier rolled his eyes and started undressing his boyfriend, rolling him over to remove the stained trench coat. 

“You are not going anywhere in this state. You are way to self-destructive right now,” he grumbled as he pulled the coat off him and started to unbutton his shirt next. “Jesus, how did you even get drunk? Dark doesn’t let alcohol in the manor?”

“Are we gonna have sex?” Host ignored Dr. Iplier’s questions in favor of addressing the fact that he was undressing him. “I should’ve guessed you were into drunk sex. You have my full consent to do whatever you want, wink wink.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” the doctor’s face burned as he helped Host shimmy out his button up. “That would be taking advantage of you, Host. I’m just getting you out your clothes so you don’t sleep in them.”

“Whatever you say, doctor.” he purred, moving hand to his boyfriend’s thigh to tease him more. He laughed when he sloppily narrated Dr. Iplier’s blushing face as he shoved his hand away.

“Shut up.” he muttered as he moved down the bed to take off Host’s shoes.


	32. “11 and 58 with the Host and Dr. Iplier”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “Stop staring at me.” “You have something in your hair… Do you um— do you want me to get it out?”

“Stop staring at me,” Host growled as he turned over in the hospital bed, wincing when the thick bandages covering his sockets unstuck itself from the dried blood on his skin. “If you want to say something, just say it.”

“You have something in your hair…” Dr. Iplier responded slowly. From the sound of it, he got up from his chair to walk towards the Host’s bed. “Do you um— do you want me to get it out?”

Host made a face, but sighed.

“Sure, go ahead,” he mumbled.

He almost jumped when gentle fingers brushed against his forehead to brush though his bangs. Recently, it’s been getting longer. Dr. Iplier’s fingers continued to brush through his hair for a bit, removing what Host assumed was dried blood from the strands. 

“I’ve been meaning to cut it, but that was before I removed my eyes, so I can’t now.” Host’s voice was soft as he started to relax against Dr. Iplier’s hands. God, he couldn’t remember a time someone was this gentle to him. 

“Maybe we can gel it back for now,” the doctor suggested. “I don’t want to attempt to cut it myself— I don’t want to get little hairs in your sockets— but I also don’t want your bangs to bother you.”

Host hummed, thinking about the idea. I suppose that would do, until it’s safe enough for him to get a haircut. 

The fingers carding through his hair stopped, and before Host can even think about it, he was spitting out a protest.

“Don’t—” he cut himself off and cleared his throat. “Can you uh… just…” 

Host tried reaching out to grab the doctor’s hand again. He assumed Dr. Iplier placed his hand in Host’s and let him pull it back to his head. Host dropped his hand back to his chest and tried ignoring the soft blush on his cheeks.


	33. “Erike, 56”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Shhh, it was just a bad dream. Just a dream, okay? None of it was real.”

“Shhh, i-it was just a bad dream. Just a dream, okay? None of it was real.” 

Mike shook his head, keeping his arms pressed against his head and hiding behind his legs. He could hear the giggling, scratching at the walls, breathing down his neck, they didn’t even  _ need  _ to breathe! They were  _ taunting  _ him!

“Mike,” Eric tried getting his attention again, pressing up against him to try and ground him. “ _ Mike, _ it’s okay. They aren’t here, it’s okay.” 

Mike couldn’t stop a sob from escaping his lips as he finally opened his eyes, lifting his head to look at his boyfriend. 

There was glowing white eyes staring at him from the darkness.

Mike froze, staring back at the white dots at the edge of his bed. He watched as a metal claw gripped the sheets. He held his breath as rows and rows of sharp teeth joined the glowing eyes. He stayed absolutely still, just staring at the monster.

And then it lunged at him.

Mike screamed as he scrambled backwards, panting and looking everywhere to try and find where the animatronic went. Someone touched his arm and he screamed again, pushing them away and falling hard off the bed. The air was knocked out of his lungs and he gaped, his vision starting to darken around the edges at the lack of air.

“Mike!” Eric scrambled out of bed and onto the floor next to him. “Oh god, okay, o-okay, it’s okay. D-do you want me to get uh― to get Dr. Iplier?” 

Mike shook his head rapidly and grabbed his boyfriend’s arm. Another sob left his mouth.

“Don’t―” he choked on the word and whimpered, tears blurring Eric’s figure. “Don’t leave. Don’t― I don’t want you to  _ die _ .”

He cut himself off with a sob and Eric shushed him softly, also tearing up a bit. He moved Mike so he was now on Eric’s lap and holding him tightly.

“It’s okay, I-I’m not leaving. I won’t die, Mike, it’s o-okay.”


	34. “either 31/36/41 with darkstache if you're still doin the prompts? your writing is really good!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “I hate how much I care about you.” “I broke my rules for you!” “Kill me now, because I’m so done with saving myself.”

“I hate how much I care about you.” Dark smiled at their husband softly, tucking his head under his chin as they laid in bed. Wilford, however, started at the words.

_ “I hate how much I love you.” she muttered darkly as she leaned back into her lover’s chest. _

_ “I broke my rules for you!” she shouted at him the morning after. “I am married and I broke that oath for you!” _

_ “Kill me now, because I’m so done with saving myself.” she whispered under her breathe the day her husband found out. _

“Wil?”

_ “William? Where are you going?” _

“I’m not going anywhere,” Wilford voice shook slightly and he tightened his grip around his partner. “Don’t you worry about me.”

Dark was silent for a moment, but they moved closer.

“I love you, Wil…”

“I love you too, Celine.”


	35. “How about 10 with Illinois and Magnus?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “If you don’t want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don’t just lie and say it’s fine.”
> 
> Continuation of chapter 15 so again, implied non-con

“What happened?” Magnum hovered nervously behind the other as he followed him down the hall. “Yancy told me ye got hurt?”

Illinois groaned. He had just come back from Dr. Iplier’s clinic― where he was scolded for drinking and not watching out for himself, as well as asked a million questions about what happened― and he was not in the mood for more questions.

“I’m fine, Maggie,” Illinois smiled to reassure the pirate. It didn’t seem to work. “I was drinking with some guy and they might’ve slipped something into my drink. Nothing happened.”

“That doesn’t sound like nothing,” Magnum fretted. He grabbed Illinois by the shoulder, stopping him from walking and spinning him around to look at him. “If ye don’t want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don’t just lie and say it’s fine.”

Illinois swallowed, ignoring the way his throat burned as he did so, and avoided Magnum’s ‘worried parent’ look.

“It’s…” Illinois trialed off, staring blankly at Magnum’s chest for a moment, before shaking his head and pushing the other’s hand off his shoulder. “I don’t know what happened, to be completely honest. I barely even remember the drive home with Yancy. I… I feel fine? I don’t know, Maggie.”

The pirate nodded along with the story, raising his hand again to place on the younger man’s shoulder, but it never landed. Illinois noticed that and smiled, patting his arm before turning back around and heading back down the hall.

“I’ll be fine, Magnum,” he turned back around, still walking backwards, and shrug nonchalantly. “I always am.”


	36. “Maybe a mix of 79 and 80 for yance/il? If you’re up for it!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “You know I have feelings for you.” “Why the fuck are you doing this to me?”

“You know I have feelings for you,” Yancy’s loud groan in response made Illinois laugh. “What?”

“Why the fuck are youes doing this to me?” Yancy groaned again, practically whining like a child.

“What’s so wrong with me liking you?” Illinois twisted himself in his seat to face the other fully.

“I’m a killer, Noisy,” Yancy threw out his hands as if it were obvious. “I could hurt youes! I could get mad at youes and kill youes and I don’t want to do that!”

“Than don’t do that,” Yancy laughed like it was a joke. “I’m serious! You killed your parents because they were jerks right?”

“I wouldn’t say―”

“They were jerks, Yancy,” Illinois says again a little more sternly. Yancy still didn’t like admitting that his parents weren’t as nice as he liked to believe. “You have my full consent to kill me if I’m acting like an abusive jerk.”

Yancy refused to meet his eye. Instead he just stared forward at the tv, not even paying attention to the program. Illinois sighed and peaked him on the cheek. 

“At least think about it,” he pushed himself off the couch. “You can’t punish yourself forever.”

And with that, he left Yancy to think.


	37. “4 with Host and Eric?? OwO??”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified,” the Host voiced one day to his friend in the library. “Because I’m not supposed to get attached and I did.”

Eric started at the Host using first person, and then flushed redder than the flowers on his shirt as he processed the rest of the words. 

“Y-you,” he swallowed and looked down at the book in his lap. “You l-love me?”

“Yes, but don’t expect it to go anywhere,” the Host answered easily, making Eric’s heart sink. “The Host is not supposed to love anyone. He is supposed to tell everyone’s story and not get involved.”

“B-but you do get involved… sometimes,” Eric glanced at him before looking back at his book, fidgeting with the pages. “Y-you stop people from getting hurt sometimes, a-and you tell them what’s gonna happen. Why can’t you be i-in love than?”

They were both silent for a moment, Eric assumed he made Host think. He tried to continue to read, even if the conversation was an anxiety inducing one.

“The Host supposes Eric is right,” Host spoke after a moment. “But the Host knows when you die. He can hear the clock ticking everytime Eric breathes. Sometimes it changes, but no matter what, the Host knows when Eric will die and―”

Eric blinks in surprise when Host’s voice chokes off and he’s breathing heavily. Eric ignores the book in his lap and turns to the Host, rubbing his arm and helping him breath. Host follows his lead, wiping some blood off his chin before it can drip onto his coat. Once he had calmed down, Eric speaks again. 

“I-I know it’s s-scary thinking about that kind of stuff, but you might as well spend time with the ones you love before they d-die.”

Host opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, he narrates Eric’s face, his thoughts and his feelings. Eric doesn’t stop him, but does get a little redder at his words. Finally, the Host smiled and placed a hand on top of Eric’s.

“The Host― I can try it out.”


	38. “24 - Google and whoever the heck you want”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “Oh my god! You’re in love with him!”

“Oh my god! You’re in love with him!”

“Sh-shut the fuck u-up, Bing!”

Bing bounced on his heels as he stood at the sink. He was cleaning up after dinner― Google despised doing the dishes so Bing and Dr. Iplier took turns doing it― and talking with Google when Bim came in to join in. Immediately, Google’s face took on a blue tint and his voice box glitched more than usual, his fans starting up to cool him down. Bing knew what that meant and immediately teased his brother once Bim was out of earshot.

“When are you telling him? Oh! I got an amazing idea for how you can do it, man! You can―”

“I’m not tell-telling him,” Google snapped. “He is my friend.”

“Oh, come on,” Bing rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses and pointed the knife he was cleaning at Google. “That’s the best part! It’s scientifically proven that people that were friends first have better romantic relationships. Just take Wilford and Dark for example! Or even me and King, and we’ve only been together for a little while— and it’s going great, btw.”

“I know, Bing,” Google cut in before Bing could go on a tangent of how he and King were. “But Bi-i-im is different. I’ve never been in a r-r-relationship before and Bim has had several. He is more— more experienced and I might not be good enough by his standards.”

“That’s a pussy ass excuse and you know it,” Bing turned back to the sink and grabbed a plate to wash next. “You are a supercomputer made to adapt to pretty much anything and everything. It might be a rocky start, but bro, you’ll get past it.”

Bing turned back around to Google and smiled. It was obvious that he was still unsure about it, looking off to the side as he thought through the possibilities of Bim rejecting him. Bing sighed. 

“Googs, hey?” Google looked at him. “It’s gonna be fine. Just… start by asking him out on a date. You don’t need to jump in and asking him to be your boyfriend.”

Google still looked unsure— his fingers glitching slightly from nerves— but he nodded, irises spinning as he was probably looking up first date ideas.

“Thank you, Bing,” Google gave a curt nod and turned around. “Your plate is about to—”

Before he could finish, the plate slipped from Bing’s hand and crashed to the floor, breaking on impact.

“Fuck! Not again!”


	39. “87 90 king & Eric platonically”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “Is that a blood stain?” “I brought food.”
> 
> And I very much want to say this is canon.

“Is that a blood stain?” Eric squeaked as King walked into the kitchen, shirt and cape gone, and chest splattered in blood.

“I brought food.” King held up a dead bird by its neck for Eric to see. It looked to be a raven, blood caught on black feathers and beak still open in a silent cry. 

“Pl-please tell me you aren’t going to eat that?” Eric felt sick looking at the poor bird. King frowned.

“Why not?” he questioned, tilting his head innocently. “He was attacking me squirrels. We can cook him like a chicken.”

“King, th-that’s a  _ wild _ bird,” Eric stressed the word, but King still looked confused. “Y-you can’t eat wild birds! You can get really sick!”

“I know that!” King pulled the bird back to him and wrapped a gentle arm around it, as if to protect it. “I’ve eaten not cooked bird before and got really sick! But I thought we can cook it this time.”

“You’ve  _ eaten _ raw meat before?” Eric felt horrified at King’s confession. The other nodded and dropped his other arm, moving past Eric to put the bird on the kitchen counter. Eric whimpered and moved away. 

“When I lived in the forest. I ate nuts, berries, and whatever tried to hurt my subjects.” Eric made another distressed noise.

“H-how are you still  _ alive _ ?” King shrugged.


	40. “King teaching Bing to speak squirrel”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No sentence prompt this is it

“I know over 100 languages― including fictional and binary― and none of them are like this.”

King flicked his cape a few times, showing his frustration. Bing might be incredibly smart, but he can barely focus long enough to listen to what King was saying. It really wasn’t that hard to understand.

Bing pointed at King’s cape, giving an almost bashful smile. “Annoyed? Heh.” King rolled his eyes but nodded.

“Now you do it.” King smiled, letting go of his cape and gesturing towards Bing. The android hesitated, looking down as he rocked on his heels. He reached behind himself mechanically and waving his hand back and forth like he was waving away gas. King stared at him in confusion, his head tilted to the side.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t have a cape.”

King groaned and grabbed Bing’s cheeks with both hands, dropping his head down on his chest. “Bing, Bing, Bing!” he whined, lifting his head back up to see Bing’s cheeks squished together and a tiny frown on his lips. “This is not that hard!”

“Says you!” Bing’s voice was muffled because of King squishing his cheeks. Bing pulled his head away and smirked. “You’ve been speaking squirrel for years.” When King crossed his arms and pouted, Bing sighed. He put both hands on King’s shoulders and tried to make him look up. King looked away, face pulled together in childish anger. 

“Listen, peanut,” King only glanced at him. Bing had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing at how cute his angry face was. “It’s not like I’m not trying. It’s just that you know so much more about squirrels than the  _ entire internet.  _ Of course it’s gonna be rough for me at first, but I still want to tell you how much I love you in squirrel.”

King still looked crabby by the end, but his face started to grow red and he was fighting back a smile. When it finally broke through, he turned back towards Bing and showed it off to Bing. He pulled away and held up his hand.

“Before I had a cape, I used my hands as a tail…”


	41. “Write Robdere, you coward.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also no prompt, but should be added that Robbie goes by she/her pronouns here

Yan and Robbie were on a date. Their first date without either of their parents― as far as they can see from checking several bushes― watching over them. They weren’t doing anything risky or bad even. They just got ice cream and then broke into an abandoned warehouse building, heading to the roof to eat their ice cream and dangle their legs off the edge. Really, why were their parents so worried about them?

Plus, this stopped people from staring at them.

Robbie tugged on Yan’s arm weakly, pointing at something on the floor of the roof behind them. Yan hummed in question before following her finger to see what she was pointing at.

It was a dead caterpillar and a living one on the concrete. The living one was crawling over the dead one like it was a pillow and not a dead body.

“Ussss.” Robbie slurred, grinning lazily as Yan laughed.

“You’re so ridiculous,” Yan giggled, covering her mouth as she did. She dropped it to lick at her bubblegum ice cream. “And you’re about to drop your ice cream.”

Robbie took a second to process Yan’s words and turn to her cone. The mint chocolate chip ice cream was slowly slipping out of her cone because of the angle she held it at. In an attempt to save it, she tried to tighten her grip on the cone. That only caused Robbie to crush it in her hand and the ice cream scoop fell off the side of the building. She pouted the best she could with her upper lip missing.

Yan couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Oh, baby―” Yan cooed but stopped when she heard a shout from below. She glanced over the edge and promptly flushed brighter red than her hair. “Dad!”

“What?” Wilford looked up at her while trying to shake mint chocolate chip ice cream from his hair. He seemed to realize what he did and stiffened. “Oh shit—”

“Wilford, you idiot!”

_ “Be quiet! You’re the idiot for calling us down here!” _

Yan leaned further over the edge to see Dark and Henrik at the entrance of the building. Robbie tried leaning to look at them too and Henrik’s face turned to pure panic.

“Yan, she’s about to fall―!” 

Yan pushed Robbie back onto the roof and got up with her. She continued to pick over the edge now that Robbie was sitting safely on the floor. “Oh my god! I can’t believe you followed us again!”

“It was just Henrik Shitstain this time! He called us when you went into the building!”

“Yan almost got Robbie killed!”

“Do not blame her for that! Your daughter doesn’t have half the brain to not kill herself every second of the day!”

_ “Dad!” _


	42. “One of the egos(not dark) just straight up bitch slapping someone. It doesn't even have to be intentional, like one of them getting super excited and swinging their hands out and smacking someone”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not as bad as you think but still angsty

Eric was shockingly talkative. Randal has never heard Eric talk so much in all the time he’s worked with him and his father― which was only a year, but still. It was odd, but a nice change to the workplace.

Randal wonders if he was actually talking because Derek was out for a meeting so Randal was left in charge.

One thing Randal didn’t know is that Eric used his hands a lot when he talks.

“I volunteered at this animal shelter and they needed someone to take care of this pregnant cat when she had her kittens, and, like an idiot, I said I could take her.” Eric rambled in the break room. He’s been doing a lot better in their commercials, still a stuttering and sweating mess, but much better than when Derek would be there. Randal let him take his break earlier and was now sitting and eating his sandwich with him as he talked up the place.

“I thought Derek hated animals?” Randal questioned as he took another bite of his tuna sandwich. Eric shook his head and waved his hand, almost knocking Randal’s sandwich away.

“No, no. He says he does, but he’s a huge animal person,” Randal found it odd that Eric didn’t have any food, he never seemed to have food now that he thinks about it. So, Randal opened his bag of chips and offered it to Eric. The kid was too busy talking to refuse, so he took some chips without complaint. “Anyways, I convinced my dad to keep the cat in the house for a bit, but I didn’t mention that she’s pregnant, so I’m worried that he’ll come in my room one day and see the kittens.”

“He wouldn’t get rid of  _ kitties,  _ would he?” Randal wanted to laugh at the image of Derek being so heartless he would throw out a pregnant cat and her one day old kittens. Eric shook his head again.

“I don’t think he would. I mean it’s―” 

“Ow!”

Eric cut himself short as his wide gesture with his arms backfired on him and he hit Randal―  _ surprisingly―  _ hard in the face. He immediately pulled his hands to his chest and stared at Randal with impossibly wide eyes. 

“I’m fine don’t worry,” Randal actually did laugh as he fixed his glasses and rubbed his nose, checking his hand to see if he was bleeding. His nose often had a bad habit of bleeding when it was hit, no matter how light the hit was. It was only a little bit of blood, it would be gone with a napkin. He did grab a napkin to do just that and looked up at his friend. “Eric?”

Eric has gone deathly pale, staring at Randal’s slightly bloody fingers. Randal could even see tears building in his eyes. “I-I-I’m so s-sorry, Randal, I―” he choked off with a hitched breath and the tears flooded down his face. 

“Hey, no no no,” Randal reached for Eric, but stopped short when Eric flinched and curled up into himself. “Eric, hey, I’m okay really. Look, it didn’t even hurt that much.” He uncovered his nose to show him that his nose had stopped bleeding. Eric only shook his head and sobbed.

After that, Eric stopped talking with his hands.


	43. “Now I want to read someone intentionally slapping someone. Lol”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay this one is as bad as it seems. Like actual abuse so yeah this is the warning

“Y-you, uh, you can even w-wear this as a shirt if― if you really wanted to.” Eric stumbled over his words as he held up the sweat pants he was supposed to be advertising. He held the pants arm's length away from him and glanced at his father, swallowing audibly at his disappointed expression. “Obviously not without cutting a hole in it… n-not that it’s not, um, not that it  _ needs _ to be fixed o-or um―”

“God!” Derek shouted, cutting Eric off. He threw his hands up in frustration and made Eric flinch and whimper. “What is wrong with you? Again, again! Better this time, for Christ’s sake.”

Eric nodded, trying to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking and his throat was closing up. He dropped his hands again and took a few deep breaths. He was probably taking too much time to calm back down because his father yelled at him.

“Go!”

“My―! Uh,” Derek’s shout had startled out Eric’s own shout and he quickly stopped himself so he doesn’t get yelled at for raising his voice. “M-my n-name is Eric D-Derekson a-and I-I―”

“Stop! Stop!” Derek shoved the camera aside, startling Randal who grabbed it before it could crash to the ground and break. Derek stormed over towards Eric and his son quickly curled into himself, raising the sweat pants up as if it would protect him. “Why can’t you do one,  _ easy,  _ little thing right? Why, why, why can’t you just  _ talk  _ to the camera, Eric!”

“I-I uh, I um―”

“Spit it out, boy!”

“I don’t know! I’m sorry! I―” Eric was harshly cut off as Derek slapped him hard across the face. He almost fell over, stumbling to catch his balance on his prosthetics. He held his already swelling cheek and trembled, not daring to look up at his father.

“Don’t you yell at me,” Derek’s voice was quiet compared to the screaming before, and that was much more terrifying. “Apologize.” 

“I’m sorry, d-dad.”

“Man up and stop crying,” Derek turned back around and towards the camera. “What are you looking at?” He snapped at Randal, who jumped at being addressed. “Is it still rolling? Go!”

Eric straightened up the best he could and gripped the waistband of the pants in hopes to stop shaking. He wiped his eyes with his arms and tried to smile at the camera. “M-my― My n-name―”

“Oh, for…” Derek trailed off and grabbed Eric by the back of his shirt, ripping the sweat pants from his grip and throwing it towards Randal. “Get on stage, you’re taking over for him.”

“D-dad?” Eric whispered shakily. Derek glared at him and he flinched, whimpering and shutting his mouth tight.

Derek didn’t say a word as he practically dragged Eric off the stage and towards a door that turned out to be a broom closet. He opened it and shoved Eric inside. Eric’s chest hit one of the wire shelves and he yelped.

“Don’t come out until I let you out, got it?”

He slammed the door before Eric could say yes.


	44. “Maybe a fluffy snuggly fic with Mike and Eric or Eric and Host it literally anyone as he is baby. Best if all three”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nothing but fluff here its great

Mike was still having a hard time adjusting to staying up during the day. He’s spent a good portion of his life at the manor sleeping during the day and working at night, but since he’s no longer the night guard― not yet anyways. Dark didn’t think it was safe to have him alone at night like he used to― he had to stay up during the day like everyone else. 

This however, was new.

Mike and Host were hanging out together in Host’s library. Mike always loved Host’s library. Even if he didn’t read, the library just always had a calm energy that Mike used to escape to during the nights when his paranoia was the worst. Right now, Host was telling him about the new story on his radio show that he’s been working on, talking about the plot, characters, and everything. Sadly, Mike didn’t sleep very well last night, so Host’s deep, calming voice telling him a story wasn’t exactly helping him stay awake.

Host abruptly stopped when he heard a soft thud on the couch behind him.

“Mike has fallen asleep to the sound of the Host’s voice,” Host narrated. He grinned and stood up from his chair, heading over to Mike. “How flattering.”

Host tried shaking him awake, calling his name. Mike only groaned and adjusted in his makeshift bed. Host huffed and decided to change tactics. He moved so that he was sitting on the couch next to Mike and attempted to lift Mike up. He didn’t expect Mike to go limp and immobilize Host by draping himself across Host’s lap. 

The Host was trapped.

Eric got a message from Mike.

He stared at the notification for awhile, confused. The more he thought about why Mike would be messaging him and not just walk down the hall to talk to him, the more anxious Eric felt. He scrambled to answer his phone when a second notification sounded.

**This is the Host. Would Eric please answer, this is harder than you might think.**

**Mike is not injured, nor is the Host, but they’re in a compromising position.**

Eric blinked at the screen. He texted back saying he would be right there. Host responded by saying that they were in the library. Despite being reassured that Mike wasn’t hurt, Eric felt his anxiety continue to grow as he made his way upstairs to the library.

He didn’t expect to see Mike curled up in the flustered Host’s lap. Host was picking at his scars before Eric came in, mumbling under his breath. Once he narrated Eric entering, his hand dropped to Mike’s shoulder and flushed more, a single stream of blood beading up and rolling down his cheek. 

“Eric! Come help the Host get Mike off of him. He could not handle another nightmare from him,” Host shifted in his spot, freezing when Mike moved closer. “Please.” he added as an afterthought.

Eric stared, face starting to heat up. He looked down at his hands and fiddled with them. “W-well, you know, Mike hasn’t been sleeping well lately. We shouldn’t wake him…”

“Come on, just to get him to his own room. I’m not a pillow.” Host dropped the third person in an effort to convince Eric.

“I haven’t been sleeping all that well either… and I know you never sleep well.” Eric looked up finally, catching Host just as he narrated Eric’s big, puppy dog eyes. 

“...No.”

“But―” 

“No.”

“You need to sleep Host and so does―”

Host interrupted Eric with a groan, dropping his head back onto the backboard of the couch. “Fine.” he gave in with a sigh. “Just this once!”

Eric smiled widely and wiggled his way under Host’s free side. He squeezed Mike closer to him to take some weight off of Host and quickly got comfortable.

Dr. Iplier would find all three of them later dead asleep and pressed close to each other.


	45. “Pairing: Darkstache Word: Blood”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One word prompt challenge I did so no sentences and the word prompts will be in the titles

“Is your blood black?”

Dark looked up from their papers, looking at their husband oddly from where he sat cross legged on the couch. Dark rolled their eyes and turned their attention back to their work.

“I wouldn’t know. Or at least, I don’t remember,” Dark answered absently as they signed another paper. “I drained my body years ago.”

“You  _ drained  _ your  _ body?”  _

“Yes,” Dark looked up again and narrowed their eyes. “You’ve seen me shirtless. I have a giant hole in my chest. I would be bleeding constantly.”

“I mean, sure,” Wilford shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. “I just never thought of that. Do you think you got it all?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I tried asking Google if blood turns black when people die and he wouldn’t give me a straight answer. Just kept talking about Liver Mortis or whatever.” Wilford grumbled the last part to himself, pouting down at the floor now.

Dark only hummed. “Maybe later I’ll let you see if I drained all my blood.”

Wilford perked up, smiling behind his mustache. “Really?”

“No, just go kill someone and watch. Or ask Bing instead.” Wilford groaned and fell back on the couch, sliding down it until his butt hit the floor.

“Darky! That’s gonna take forever!”

“Then go look in Bim’s freezer.”


	46. “Dark and Wilford, aardvark?”

“Aardvark? What the hell is an aardvark?”

Wilford was practically crying with laughter at Dark genuine confusion. He was doubled over, using the wall as support as he laughed. Dark was getting increasingly more frustrated with him, aura shuddering in embarrassment.

“Wil, this isn’t funny, what is an aardvark.” Wilford just continued to cackle, even going as far as wiping his eyes with his hand. He looked up at Dark with a beat red face.

“What do you think an aardvark is?” he asked through his chuckling. Dark scolded.

“A boat of some kind?” Wilford exploded into another laughing fit and Dark practically flushed. “What is it then!”

It took a moment for Wilford to pull himself together long enough to answer. He wiped at his eyes again and straightened up, trying to conceal his giggling. He turned to Dark and held out his hands like he was holding something.

Then a creature that looked like a pig and a rat mixed together appeared in his hands. Dark’s aura spiked as their eyes widened, taking a huge step back from the creature.

“What the Hell is that!” Wilford doubled over again and the poor animal struggled in his grip, squealing and wiggling around. 

“An aardvark!” Wilford shouted through his tears, pushing the aardvark closer to Dark and cackling as they stumbled quickly backwards.

“Put it back, Wilford, it―!” Dark was cut off as the aardvark freed itself and dropped gracelessly to the floor. Dark’s aura went nuts and they disappeared in a flash of black smoke as soon as the creature squealed and ran in their direction.


	47. “How bout Dr. Iplier and The Author with the words 'blood' and 'ink'?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self harm in this chapter too. Off screen but still there.

“Seriously, what is  _ wrong  _ with you?” Dr. Iplier had come over to see how the Author was doing, made sure he was okay, and saw him passed out at his desk with blood pooling below him. Now, Author was confined to his bed and Dr. Iplier was bandaging his wound. “You  _ knew  _ I was coming, you could’ve asked for me to pick up ink, but  _ no,  _ you had to do this shit and almost kill yourself.”

“Oh, shut up,” Author slurred his words together from the amount of blood lost. He rolled his head on his pillow to look at Dr. Iplier, but shut his eyes tightly at the throbbing it caused in his head. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m fucking annoying? Good, if I’m annoying you then I’m doing my job,” Dr. Iplier snapped and taped down the bandages. He turned back around and grabbed the syringe and jabbed it into the Author's neck without warning. He pushed the clotting agent in as Author let out a shout. “Hope that fucking hurt.”

“Why are you being such a dick about this?” Author rubbed his neck and watched Dr. Iplier angrily pack everything away.

“Because you were this close to death, Author!” Dr. Iplier whipped back around, making his fingers almost touch to get his point across. “Was it fucking worth it? Cut open your fucking arm just to write a few paragraphs―”

“That was a very important part of the story!”

“The story doesn’t fucking matter when it comes to your life!” Dr. Iplier practically screamed at him. He ducked as Author threw one of his pillows at him. He got back up and scowled. “Fine. If you don’t want my help, fucking die here.”

He grabbed his materials and left the bedroom, slamming the cabin’s door behind him.


	48. “Character(s): Bing and/or Google(s) Words: virus, water, and illness.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mentions of death but no one dies it's alright

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Bing chanted the words as he rushed into the kitchen to wet a towel with cool water. He bounced on his heels and whined as he waited impatiently. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Bim asked him from where he was leaning against the island, drinking his morning coffee. Bing didn’t even glance at him, rushing out of the kitchen. 

“Google’s sick. Caught a virus.  _ Shit.”  _ Bing all but ran to Google’s office with the towel and burst into the room. Google being sick is dangerous. His systems are so fragile that if the virus happens to be a big one or turns  _ into  _ a big one, he could breakdown completely. 

Inside, Google was lying limp on the floor, shirtless and almost literally steaming from how overheated his core was. Bing rushed to his knees in front of him and dabbed the towel on his chest. Google immediately let out a loud whine of pain and turned his head to Bing. He was glitching slightly. Bing prayed that he was just overwhelmed and it wasn’t something bad.

“Bi-i-i-in-g.” Shit, that didn’t sound good. Bing brought up one of Google’s screens as well as his own and moved to dab Google’s face. 

“Shh, it’s alright. I’ll figure this out Googs, don’t worry,” Bing’s eyes flickered through both the screens. He frowned and put the towel down as the cold water had gone warm. Instead, he cranked up his fans and ran his fingers through Google’s hair. “Don’t worry. You’re gonna be fine.”

“I-i-i-it hur-r-rts-s.”

“Hey, hey, shh.” Bing looked down at him and felt his core whine in his own pain as he looked down at him. He massaged his shoulder to try and comfort him.  _ Shit. _


	49. “Host and Bim: "Why the fuck is your eyeliner so fucking huge?"”

"Why the fuck is your eyeliner so fucking huge?"

“Because the Host has never done makeup before and he doesn’t want to poke Bim in the eye and have two blind egos,” Host responded as he capped the eyeliner and put it back down, thumbing through more makeup materials. “Bim asked him to do this.”

“Yeah, because I thought you would be awful,” Bim checked his look in the mirror and rubbed his lips together to fix his lipstick. “This doesn’t even look that bad. Then again, I can never look terrible.” He blew a kiss at the mirror before putting it back down.

“The Host suggests that Bim shuts up about his looks before he says something cruel,” Host gave him a thin smile and leaned forward again, mixing the brush he had in the highlighter. “Now for this…?”

“Just swipe it on my cheekbones,” Bim made a swiping motion towards himself as he said this. “Then take a bit on your finger and dab it on my nose.”

“Bim’s face is too round,” Host mumbled under his breath as he brought up the brush and swiped a little too much highlighter on his cheekbones. “The Host can only guess where his low cheekbones are.”

“Ha ha.” Bim said sarcastically and rolled his eyes as Host did the other cheek. Host then did what Bim had said earlier and rubbed some highlighter on his pointer finger and booped Bim’s nose.

“The Host believe’s Bim looks rather pretty for his first time.” Host even smiled proudly as he said this, putting the makeup down. Bim picked up the mirror again and started at just how much highlighter Host had looked.

“Hm,” he hummed, turning his cheek to watch the light catch on his cheeks. “I think it would look really good if I had eyeshadow and some contour to help… even out the highlighter. But yeah! Not at all bad for your first time Host.”

“Thank you and fuck you.” Bim laughed.


	50. “Host and Eric, word is candle.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of panic but nothing else

Eric yelped as the power in the manor went out with the thunderstorm outside. He heard a scream come from somewhere else in the manor, probably from Wilford. Eric whimpered and felt around for his phone. He turned on the flashlight and looked back down at the book in his lap. He got up and put it back on the shelf and headed to the Host’s desk.

“H-Host?” Eric turned the corner and saw Host’s desk empty, left like a ghost town. Eric’s breathing hitched and he pointed his makeshift flashlight all around him. “Host? The power went off. W-we should probably go back downstairs with the others.”

With no answer, Eric started to get nervous. He gulped and decided to go search for Host. To make sure he wasn’t bleeding out somewhere after the blackout. Oh god, what if he was? What if he crashed into something and Eric didn’t hear it? What if Eric found his body slumped against one of the shelves? What if he already left the library and left Eric alone to wonder, scared out his mind because he couldn’t find him?

Eric tried to shake his head of the thoughts and continued his search. It didn’t make him feel better that the Host just didn’t respond to him. Maybe he really did leave him and is downstairs with the others now. Maybe the others are trying to find him. But if he was still in here, Eric couldn’t just leave him. Host was blind and self-destructive. He might actually get himself hurt if Eric left him alone.

“Hello Eric.”

Eric yelped as he turned the corner and dropped his phone in fright as he came face to face with the Host. Host smiled at him under the dim yellow light of the candle he was holding. Eric gulped.

“Th-there you are,” he laughed breathlessly and bent down to grab his phone. “The lights went out.”

“That’s why I got the candle.” Host nodded down towards the flame and Eric nodded.

“Well, we should go downstairs with the others.” Eric smiled slightly, even when Host frowned.


	51. “Darkiplier and Eldrich (whatever characters/pairings you want, I'm just unimaginative)”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing but the egos making Dark question their entire existence again

Dark truly wasn’t as old as people thought they were. In fact, they were technically 30 some years younger than Wilford, not counting Damien and Celine’s lives as their own. 

“Where were you during the French Revolution?” Dark looked at Bim like he was crazy. Bim just looked back at him. “What? I have questions for my next show about it. I need your help.”

“How old do you think I am?” Dark asked him incredulously. Bim shrugged.

“I dunno, I just thought you were some eldritch being as old as time.” 

“You can’t be serious,” they deadpanned. “I’m only 98. I barely remember anything before the 1980’s.”

“Then how do you explain this?” Bim waved his hand through Dark’s aura, making his hand go grey and cold and the aura shudder. Dark slapped his hands away.

“I don’t know,” they hissed. “It was given to me.”

“You don’t know what it is?” It was Bim’s turn to sound incredulous and he stared at Dark. “You’ve had this thing for like… your whole life and you don’t know what it is!”

“You’ve had a brain your whole life and you have yet to figure it out.” Bim faked a wince.

“Ouch,” he still followed Dark when they started to walk away, hellbent on bothering them over this. “But it’s keeping you alive right? And it has its own pocket dimension. What if you are like a demon or something?”

“Demons don’t exist and Wilford has a pocket dimension too.”

“Then what is Anti? And what if Wilford’s a demon too? I mean how else do you explain him? And what about the manor? It keeps like growing and changing and―”

“Bim, I will throw you into the void if you don’t leave me alone.”


	52. “6 and 48 with host and Dr. Iplier?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “You have to leave right now.” “You make me want things I can’t have.”

“You have to leave right now,” Dr. Iplier crossed his arms across his chest, keeping his eyes off of the Host. “You make me want things I can’t have.”

Host tilted his head. “Why can’t Dr. Iplier have him?” Host knew the reason, but he was already on thin ice with Edward because of his ‘gifts’.

“Because it’s…” he tensed even more than his already stiff posture. “It’s just wrong. You’re my patient and you’re…”

“Male.”

“Don’t even try that shit.”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking the same-sex, Dr. Iplier,” Host noted that Edward had moved so his head was facing to the right and he really was avoiding looking at him now. “You never had a problem with Dark and Wilford.”

“Yes, but they’re…” he stopped, not having a good excuse for this. “I never said… there’s nothing  _ wrong  _ with liking men―”

“Except when it’s you that likes men.”

“Shut up.”

“The Host doesn’t mean to upset Edward,” Host straightens and gives him a smile. “He just wants the doctor to feel comfortable as himself.” Dr. Iplier huffs and his crossed arms transform into hugging himself. The Host gets up from the hospital bed and walks towards his friend, choosing to stop when Dr. Iplier takes a step back from him. “The Host won’t force Edward into anything, that’s not something he enjoys, but he does want him to think about this. He’ll give him time.”

As he walked past him to the exit, he stopped to give Dr. Iplier’s arm a squeeze, choosing to keep his dignity safe and leaving out Dr. Iplier’s shiver from his narrations.


	53. “3 and 10 with heric?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “It’s three in the morning.” “You’re the one up at 3 am.”

“Host…” 

The Host tilted his head towards the door at the dragged out whine, knowing only one person that whines at him like that.

“It’s three in the morning,” he reads out the scene in front of him with a fond smile. “Eric stands at the Host’s door with his… pajamas a mess and his prosthetics hastily put on… Eric had woken in the midst of an anxiety attack.”

As soon as the realization dawns on him, the Host’s smile is wiped clean off his face and he rushes to Eric’s aid, quickly pulling him into a grounding hug. Eric is quick to hug him back with a wheeze and a tight grip around his neck.

“Come here,” Host whispers softly in his ear, moving his arms to around Eric’s waist and using the new position to lift him up and carry him to his bed. “His legs must hurt.” Eric only whined in response. 

Once Eric was in his bed, Host made quick work on taking off his prosthetics and propping them against his nightstand. He tucked Eric in and sat next to him, placing his hand on his knee. 

“What happened, Eric?” Host kept his voice at a whisper. Eric just shook his head. Host pursed his lips, he’ll have to check his recent memories later. “Alright… would he like the Host to sleep with him?”

“Yes, please,” Eric’s voice sounded airy and exhausted. “Y-you need to sleep.”

“ _ You _ need to sleep, Eric.” Host said with amusement, moving to lie next to Eric, giving him a thankful smile when he offered him some blanket.

“You’re the one up at 3 am.”

“So are you.”


	54. “28 Darkstache plz”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

“This is why we can’t have nice things.”

“This is  _ not  _ why,” Wilford rejected that statement and delicately crossed his arms, keeping his chin up high and letting out a  _ hmph!  _ “King is why we can’t have nice things. And the Jims for that matter!”

“And whose idea was that to keep them?” Dark’s voice was dangerously thin and transparently furious. Bits of dust and cement stuck to their clothes from the hole in the ceiling above their head. Water from busted pipes dripped onto the hardwood floors around them. Wilford was less messed up, but he was the one that fell from the floor, along with King hiding behind them, both of them soaking wet.

Wilford gasped dramatically and reached around to cover King’s ears. “Don’t you say that about your son! I don’t care about the Jims, but not our little King!”

_ “How the hell did this happen!”  _ Dark shouted, their voice echoing with their aura, dust falling from their shoulders and hair because of their furious shaking. King pressed closer to Wilford’s back.

“Well,” Wilford turned back around and twirled his mustache, a fist on his hip. He gestured at him and King’s soaked bodies with the hand he was twirling with. “I was giving King a bath! Trying to, at least.”

_ “He’s not a fucking dog, Wilford!”  _

“Well, he’s not gonna wash himself if we don’t force him!”

“I wash myself in the creek sometimes.” King butted in with a timid voice. Wilford covered his mouth, making him jump.

“Shh, you’ll only make them more upset, dear.”

_ “You broke through the fucking ceiling!” _


	55. “6/7 - Celine and Damien?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “You have to leave right now.” “Just trust me.”

“You have to leave right now.”

“Celine―” Damien was shoved out the door of the bedroom by his sister, stumbling a little in an attempt to keep his eyes on William still in bed. Celine shut the door behind her, wrapping the colonel’s coat around her figure. Damien scowled. “When I said you could stay with me for awhile, that didn’t mean you could go behind Mark’s back.”

“Damien, you don’t understand―”

“Mark is your  _ husband―” _

“Damien!” Celine’s shout made him clamp his mouth shut, clenching his teeth. His sister sighed, brushing away some hair in her face and adjusting the coat around her. “I know what you must think of me, but you have to understand, this is good.”

“Adultery is a  _ terrible―” _

“ _ Just trust me _ ,” Celine stressed the words, gripping the coat tightly against her. She was pleading with her brother to listen. Once she knew Damien was silent, she sighed, shutting her eyes closed. “I know this is bad,  _ to you.  _ But for me, Damien. For me this is my only escape from Mark. I don’t want to be… trapped in that house with someone that I don’t love for the rest of my life!”

“And you love William?” Damien could at least show sympathy if that were the case, but when she didn’t respond, he turned cold. “How could you? To both of them!”

“This was the only way!”

“Don’t start with that bullshit!” he shouted. “You could have left him! You could have gotten a divorce and not subject two men to heartbreak!”

“I am a woman, Damien,” Celine sounded like she wanted to laugh, which only made Damien more angry. “Cheating to get out of a relationship is easier than a divorce for us. I rather be killed than another man’s property.”

Damien only glared at her. After a moment, he spoke again. “I want you and William out of my house. I’m telling Mark about this.”

“I’d hope you do.” Celine bites back, turning back to the door and shutting it behind her to get prepared.


	56. “Prompt 21 and/or 3 with platonic Dark and Host?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “Sometimes, being a complete nerd comes in handy.” “It’s three in the morning?”

“Sometimes, being a complete nerd comes in handy.”

“How does being a nerd come in handy with massages?” Dark mumbled into their arms as Host ghosted his fingers on their back. They’re not sure how they agreed to let Host help them relax, but they had a theory that he forced them with his words.

“Pressure points,” Host clarified. “The Host used to use pressure points on King during their sessions to study them. He called it science class.”

“I rather you not talk about King in that respect and get this over with. I have work to do.” Dark couldn’t stop themself from jumping slightly when Host finally did pick a spot to start, wrapping his hands on top of their shoulders.

“It’s three in the morning?”

“I still have bills to do. I have 20 people to take care―” Dark’s sentence was cut short as Host digs his fingers into a knot in their shoulder, opening their mouth in silent pleasure. They quickly buried their face and leaned back into the touch. “Fuck…”

“Does that feel better, Dark?” Host said with a teasing tone in his voice, adding more pressure as he worked his way done Dark’s back, careful to avoid any bruised or cracked bones.

Dark only grunted, still leaning back into Host’s hands. They groaned as Host moved down to just under their ribcage and dug their nails into their arms. Host laughed quietly.

“Dark should ask their husband to massage them so the Host won’t have to.” he suggests.

“I will.” Dark practically moaned and Host laughed fully.


	57. “13. Any couple or polycule.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “I thought you were dead?”
> 
> This is from my dnd au which I haven't written much on.

“I thought you were dead?” Blue popped a dorito into Issac’s mouth as he asked the question, both him and Bim tossing food at him to see if they could make it. Issac brought up a hand to shove the dorito into his mouth and shook his head as he chewed.

“They did die but Dark helped me out,” Bim answered. He pushed himself up so that he was practically sitting in Issac’s lap― where his legs were draped across― and patted his back as he chewed. “You okay, Izzy?”

Issac gave a thumbs up and swallowed. “Yeah,” he laughed. “It was just a big chip.” He grabbed Bim’s arm and followed it up to his sweater, grabbing it and pulling him forward so that he could kiss Bim’s cheek. Bim helped by turning his head.

“What else did I miss this session?” Blue brought their attention back to him. Bim shrugged and layed back down the length of the couch, reaching towards the various snack bowls to grab a grape.

“Not much― Issac, open your mouth again.” Issac followed command. He laughed when the grape bounced off his forehead and onto the carpet. Bim playfully kicked him. “Shut up. Anyways, we still don’t have Darkiplier’s dog and Wilford got kidnapped.”

“No, he’s not kidnapped,” Issac corrected, picking up a chip that fell on his shirt at Blue’s attempt. “He was a dumbass and got eaten by the giant fish. He’s just sitting inside his mouth until next session.”

Blue laughed and ticced. “Did he―”

“He rolled to seduce.” Both Issac and Bim answered at the same time, laughing as well.

“Why are you all the way over there!” Bim interrupted their laughter with a whine, reaching out to grab Blue, flapping his arm around as if to demonstrate how far away Blue was from his boyfriends. “Come here!”

“You’re taking up the whole― hey!” Blue got up to join them on the couch, but that alerted Issac of how close he was and he grabbed him and pulled him on top of his lap.

“Ow! Hey! My legs were there!”

“Edward can get you new ones.”


	58. “1 and 4 with yancy and eric??”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “It’s really not that complicated.” “I should have told you a long time ago.” 
> 
> Context, Yan has a "secret" kitty named Aiko in the manor

“I-it’s, uh, really not that complicated,” Eric ran his hands together. He reached out and scratched under Aiko’s chin. “Not to be rude, sorry, um—“

“Nah, it’s okay,” Yancy tried a laugh, hand hovering above the cat. “I’ve never petted a cat before so it’s okay if she bites me. So, uh, how do I do this…?”

“Sorry, y-you just—“ Eric stopped petting Aiko— fighting a smile when she meowed in protest— and took Yancy’s wrist. He moved it so it was in between Aiko’s ears. “Just scratch her head gently.”

Yancy followed his instructions and gently scratched Aiko’s head. She purred and pushed her head against his rough hand. Yancy practically melted, letting her rub her little head in his palm.

“She’s so soft…” he was in awe over her. Eric smiled and started petting her back.

“I used to have a cat,” Eric said. “I used to have a lot of cats. My dad could never turn down an animal no matter how much he says he hates them.”

“I used to have this dog. It wasn’t actually my dog b-but,” Yancy stuttered off as Aiko crawled onto his lap and rubbed against his chest while purring. He cleared his throat and kept talking. “She was old and died when I was 8, but she was real nice.”

“What was her name?” Eric asked.

“I should ‘ave told youse a long time ago,” Yancy shifted Aiko on his lap, taking out his cigarettes, and rolling up his sleeve. He tapped his tattoo. “Chica? That’s my ol’ girl.”

Eric grinned. “I always wanted a tattoo.”

“No way! Youse?”

“I should’ve told you!”


	59. “13 &14 with darkstache”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence(s) prompt: “I thought you were dead.” “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

Wilford shrugged, making Dark’s head bounce on his shoulder. “It was a big thing! You were shot and fell off the staircase! Legally you were dead for 10 hours.”

“Legally, I’ve been dead for decades,” they corrected. “And you were the one that shot me and made me fall off the staircase.”

“Is that why you don’t like going upstairs?” Yan questioned from Wilford’s other shoulder, more hugging her father than leaning against him like they were.

Dark was quiet for a long moment. “No…”

“Are you afraid of heights, love?” Wilford sounded amused, trying to keep it neutral however so Dark didn’t get worked up. “There’s nothing wrong with that if you―”

“I’m not afraid of  _ anything _ .” Dark insisted, glaring at their husband and daughter. Wilford raised his hands half-way in surrender― mostly because they were lying on his arms so he couldn’t lift them.

“There’s nothing wrong with it!” he said.

“Yeah, Dark,” Yan giggled and reached across Wilford’s stomach to shake Dark’s shoulder, laughing again when they shrugged her off. “Awe, don’t be embarrassed!”

“I’m not embarrassed!” Dark moved away from the two, over to the edge of the couch. They crossed their knee over the other and glared at them. “If I was afraid of anything, it would be  _ falling  _ because my bones are  _ fragile.” _

“Ha!” Wilford exclaimed and pointed at Dark with glee. “You just implied you were afraid of heights! I win!”

“That wasn’t a competition!”


	60. “48 darkstache :0?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: “You make me want things I can’t have.”
> 
> It's that period of time where Wilford cheated on Dark so yeah a little warning for that

“You make me want things I can’t have.”

“What can’t Wilford ‘Motherloving’ Warfstache have?” Dark said bitterly. He was pacing the length of the table, Wilford standing opposite to him. “Because clearly you thought you were missing something in this relationship!”

“I just don’t understand why I couldn’t drink or have fun anymore!” Wilford defended, arms crossed. “You were fine with it when we were younger!”

“I was never fine with you sleeping around, drinking and doing drugs, but we weren’t together! And you were doing  _ so well  _ sober!” Dark stressed his last sentence by stopping and grabbing the back of a chair, gripping it tightly in his fist. Wilford scrunched up his nose.

“I never stopped all that stuff?” he laughed, like this was a  _ joke.  _ “I thought you knew that? I can’t remember the last time I was sober!”

Dark was quiet, expression a mixture of fury and pain. He lowered his head and stared at the table, almost splintering the chair under his grip. He raised his hand slowly to his hair and pushed it back. Dark looked at Wilford again with uncharacteristically watery eyes.

“You’ve…” his voice was thick. He let out a shaky sigh and dropped his hand, letting his hair cover his face. “You’ve been doing this for all this time…?”

Wilford frowned, dropping his arms as well. “Darky―?”

“Please just leave,” Dark asked wobbly, taking a seat in the chair and shielding his face with his hand. “I don’t want to… talk to you or  _ see  _ you right now. Please.”

Wilford shifted on his feet, feeling uncomfortable with this side of Dark. He reached out to touch his husband, but hissed and ripped his hand back when his aura practically gave him frostbite. He shook out his hand and looked at Dark. He was breathing heavily, but didn’t move a muscle when Wilford got hurt.

Wilford licked his lips nervously. He decided that Dark will calm down at some point, everything will be fine. Dark couldn’t be mad at him long… Hopefully.


End file.
